


I'll Be Your Daydream

by beinmyheart



Series: Hide Away [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mini fics, Snapshots, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cuties being cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beinmyheart/pseuds/beinmyheart
Summary: Snapshots of moments and conversations between Felicity and Oliver in Hide Away 'Verse





	1. Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Hi loves!
> 
> I am so so so sorry that I've not updated in a while - I have some personal stuff going on in the real life that has dragged me away from writing and then I have lost motivation and excitement regarding Arrow itself.
> 
> HOWEVER when I randomly came across this BTS scene from an ep (see banner below), I immediately had this idea stuck in my head and needed to write it!
> 
> Hopefully, it has kick-started some motivation to write again!
> 
> (BTW Hide Away is not abandoned!)
> 
> Take care! xx

 

* * *

 

**Somewhere in the future...**

 

It's the night of the fundraiser for her first prototype. Well, the first prototype that hasn't crash and burnt. The one that she's worked so hard for; she has shed tears over, had midnight coffee runs for, fought with suppliers over.   
  
Most importantly, the one that's going to save lives.   
  
She's a mixture of excitement and nerves. There's a part of her that's worried she'll freeze up with anxiety - but she's far from that stumbling scared girl from before.  
Oliver had offered to help with the night's proceedings and shes forever grateful - but this is hers.   
  
Her baby. Her mountain to climb. Her success story.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
So her man has parked himself in a corner using his odd but endearing skill of folding napkins into the lotus fold - after all growing up with Moria Queen, one has to know the in and outs of a table setting.  
  
Her wheels are going as fast as her mind is turning with the things she has to do before the doors open.   
  
When her name is called, low and huskily, she pivots a wheel - knowing who she'll see when she stops spinning.  
  
Physically and mentally.  
  
Because that voice invades her dreams and reality in the best way possible.  
  
"Hmm?" She questions distractedly, eyebrow arching in impatience.  
  
Surely he knows she's busy. But he just stands metres away with a dimpled smile and an easy lustful look in his eyes.   
  
It's like he knows she's tense and stressed and needs a timeout - even though it's for a millisecond - because he tilts his head slightly and gives her his best James Dean look.  
  
"C'mere," Oliver beckons, calling her with his finger. "I wanna kiss you"  
  
Felicity chuckles, all the tension within her floats away. God, she loves this man. Of course, he wants to halt her to kiss her. She shakes her head though, playfully puckering her lips and leans forward.  
  
If he wants her, he can come to her.   
  
Instead of feeling the instant touch of his kiss, Oliver laughs heavily and takes out his phone, capturing her in the moment forever.  
  
The playfulness doesn't last long as he strides over to lean down and kisses her hard.   
  
His touch is calming, his taste is home and Felicity is on the top of the world.  
  
As Oliver pulls back, his smile is wide and his eyes are soft with love.  
  
"I'm so proud of you, baby. Love you."

 


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt pic from @Tiff_Z
> 
> Hi Hi, 
> 
> Yes, I'm now taking picture prompts (will update when I can!)! YAYYY! Let's see what you have!
> 
> Also, this is my FIRST *attempt* at smut :| I am so so sorry if it's terrible!!!!! I give you FULL permission to tell me to NOT to write smut EVER again if it's *that* bad, okay?
> 
> Much love xx

* * *

  **Somewhere in the future...**

 

Oh, _wow_ ," Felicity gasps, between deep breathless pants. Her skin is flush and damp against the cool, crisp sheets of their bed. Her body still tingles dully from the out-of-this-world orgasm she had just moments ago. "I'm not complaining, but what did I do to deserve this kind of _wake up call_?"

All she gets in response is a sharp nip to the spot behind her ear before Oliver traces her jaw with hot open mouthed kisses until he reaches her lips, swollen and used from his delicious attack previously.

They get lost in the feeling of tangled tongues and roaming hands, slow and sensual until Oliver leans back and hovers over her between her limp thighs.

And goddamn it, she's left wanting _more_.

It's only been a few minutes since he's been inside of her, hard and pulsating - but here she is, wanting him again.

The stupid hot bastard knows too.

It's in the way he doesn't answer her. He just shrugs, his smile is smug and his eyes are dark as midnight as he looks down at her. She wants to make him work for it, playfully push him away.

But when he pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can brush her slightly damp hair away from her forehead and how the emotion in his eyes turns unreadable before he kisses her with all the love he can put into one single kiss, Felicity is done for.

Absolutely _done_ for.

She moans and arches her back as Oliver makes his way to the valley of her breasts, only to have him groan in return as she runs her fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp with her nails. He trails a light hand over her ribs and around to the sensitive part of the small of her back and scratches hard - a sure way to make her combust, heat surging in her veins as the fire lights within her core.

She's about to gently tug the back of his nape in retaliation when he just hovers over her left breast, warm breath teasing her nipple - when something by the door catches her eye.

Her suitcase. The one she packed for tomorrow. Bruce Wayne has finally convinced to go help fix his many underdeveloped prototypes. She goes in the morning for three weeks.

She has to bite her lip to stop from smiling widely.

Her lovable, gorgeous idiot of a man.

Cupping his cheeks, Felicity yanks Oliver's face to hers and a huff of laughter escapes her lips as she takes in his adorable confused yet concerned expression.

"Was I hurting-"

"Oliver," she cuts him off fondly, raising an expected eyebrow, "Is this about _Gotham_?"

For a millisecond, surprise splashes over his features before he looks down sheepishly.

Oh yeah, he's realizing nothing gets by her. He should know by now, she can read him like a book.

She laughs as she remembers when Oliver had mumbled something about Wayne only getting her there to offer her the CEO role of his own company.

"I told you I'm not going to fall in love with the bat infestation after three weeks!" Felicity teases, placing a playful sloppy kiss on his cheek.

But her light teasing dies as she notices the sad smile Oliver gives her.

"I know, I know," he sighs lowly, gently placing soft kisses on her eyelids, nose, cheeks and finishing with her lips. "But this is the first time we're going to be apart for more than a couple of days since, well _ever_.  It's gonna be- uh, well, a piece of me is going to be missing. You're my home, Felicity."

 _Good lord_ , if she wasn't already naked and withering under Oliver right now, she would have been stripping instantly. Who needs those romance novels when she has the love of her life telling her that she’s a piece of him.

That he _can’t be without her._

Her heart melts into a sappy mess and tears threaten to well up as she pulls him into a hug and he falls willingly as Oliver nuzzles his face into her neck as Felicity bands her arms around him, stroking his hairline.

“Oh, _my love,_ ” she breathes out, her voice is drenched with raw emotion as she kisses the side of his head. “You’re my home, too. My everything. My heart. And that’s never gonna change,  no matter where I am, or how far apart we are. Okay?”

Her words matter, she knows that. She knows Oliver has heard her by the shuddering breath he exhales on her dewy skin - but sometimes, Felicity knows that you need more than vowels and consonants.

You need to show your words.

Turning her head, Felicity presses her lips to Oliver’s - nibbling and licking until it’s all tongue, heat and passion.

It’s not long before Oliver is whispering in her ear, low and huskily.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice is a mixture of sin and lust, with a hint of tenderness as places a quick kiss on her neck before putting his forehead to hers.

Felicity can only whimper and nod, the familiarity of the question spending a shiver down her spine.

She knows the meaning behind the simple question. It means he’s about to palm her to see if she’s ready for him.

She _hates_ not being able to feel his fingers, not able to feel him, hard and straining against her thigh - but she guesses it makes up for it when she feels him moan against her lips as she trails her hand down to stroke him.

But then, as like on cue, all that frustration about _not_ feeling floats away. She faintly recognizes the purposefully light tap on her oversensitive hard nub - the signal for _‘we’re all good to go_ ’

“Oliver,” Felicity half moans, half warns as she can feel him smile into the kiss - he’s still lightly circling her with his thumb, knowing she’s reaching the torturous sweet spot between the feeling of dulled pleasure and pain.

He stops then, placing a gentle hand on her limp thigh to hold it against his hip and his other hand is intertwining their fingers together in a tight embrace beside her head.

And when she guides him home; it feels exactly like that.

_Home_


	3. Soar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: @Someonesaidcake
> 
> Hey!
> 
> Sorry if this isn't my best work -- I'm not sold on my skills lately!
> 
> Much Love xx

* * *

**Somewhere in the future...**

To Felicity, the beach will now forever be associated with hope and fresh starts.

It’s magical even; the grittiness of the sand underneath her fingertips, the taste of the salt in the air on her tongue and the sound of the waves crashing is something she won’t ever take for granted.

More so, she'll cherish every moment with Oliver here — the man who gifted her new beginnings and sunny days at the beach.

Whether it's her giving him _come-hither_ eyes when she notices the subtle lick of his bottom lip as he admires the sexy cutouts of her one piece or the simple happiness it brings her to watch a touch football game between her family and friends on the sand.

Or on a rarity, such as like today, where Felicity wears a bikini because it's just her and Oliver on the extended sketch of beach outside the house.

The bikini isn’t special, it’s plain and white — but according to Oliver, it’s his favourite.

At first, she couldn't understand why. The white material covered all the right areas except only to bare her ugly, imperfect physical scars to the world while her emotional scars slowly healed in the breeze.

But then, after feeling his sensual lips on her marred skin — many, _many_ times —, Felicity learnt her idea of perfection was never Oliver’s thing.

The memory makes her smile lazily against Oliver's neck, and she tightens her hold around him, her nails dig into his chest as he walks. In response, he nuzzles his nose into the nook of her elbow and breathes her in before pulling back, jiggling her higher up his bare back and his arms link around her limp thighs a little stronger.

Placing a quick kiss to his jaw, Felicity’s heart begins to melt at the closeness of his warmth and the tenderness of his touch  — there's no other place where she's feels so safe and protected and like a young woman in love when Oliver gives her a piggyback ride.

“What are we exploring today,” she questions playfully, turning her head so she can let her warm breath brush his ear as she speaks, patting the hard plains of his chest for good measure, getting a slight shiver in return.

“The park.” He informs her and tilts his head in the direction of the rundown playground that sits at the end of the dead-end street.

"Ummm," she puzzly drawls out, leaning into him further so she can stretch her neck to look him in the eye and give him an amused look. "The same park _you_ won’t go to because Thea _claimed_ it was haunted because she _swears_ she saw a ghost there as a kid?”

The adorable pout Oliver gives her has Felicity nearly in stitches, but she does her best to stay deadpanned as she arches an eyebrow as he shrugs a shoulder sheepishly, causing her to move with the action.

"You weren't there, hon. Thea can be a _compelling_ storyteller! _”_ Oliver retorts, rolling his lips over one another and huffing as Felicity chuckles lightly.

A peaceful lull rolls over them as they make their way over to the park. Felicity can’t help but use this short time to snuggle the love of her life as she rubs her smooth cheek along his stubble and  Oliver sighs when she tucks her chin into the hollow of his neck, idly playing with his tags that hang perfectly against his glorious bare chest.

Of course, everyone knows all good things come to an end. This time it’s because of Oliver stupidity thinks he has the _audacity_ to utter the words as he steps onto the start of the tanbark park area:

“I actually had my first summer fling here.”

Nonchalance fills his tone like he’s telling her the daily news update rather than the ‘Past lives of ex-lovers”. It throws Felicity for a second like her genius brain _cannot_ comprehend that her sweet, gorgeous _idiot_ is openly telling her about how he got down and dirty at a playground — but when her mind finally registers this is _happening_ , Felicity leans back, moving her hands to his shoulders and shoots daggers at the back of his head.

“Oliver,” she cringes, digging her nails into his skin, hard enough to make him squirm. “I swear to god if you’re gonna go down sexcapade lane—”

Honestly, she’s super cool with his past. He knows she wouldn't use it against him — but _geez_ , give her some time to prepare if she's going to hear about _ex-lovers._

Before she can even finish the threat, she gets cuts off.

"I was six,” Oliver starts softly, and the way he’s frowning horrifiedly — Felicity thinks it’s more reminiscent of a war story than a cute childhood memory and she can’t help the amused upturn of her lips as he continues.

“Her name was Rebecca Dowling. She used to live down the street, we would play together on the swings. One day, she randomly laid a kiss on my cheek. Of course, the gentleman that I was — offered to push her on the swing then. But the next day, she told me we couldn’t play anymore because I couldn’t push the swing high enough!”

Taking a long centring breath in an attempt to hold back the delightful belly laugh that's bubbling up her throat, Felicity tries to compose herself to answer. But for the life of her, she can't. Not when Oliver's looking like a kicked puppy, all serious and dishearted. Pearls of laughter roll through her as her whole body shakes in amusement. She leans down and presses her face into his shoulder, letting this hilarious moment wash over her.

“Oh, my poor love!” she chortles between giggles, placing small kisses to Oliver’s shoulder blade before sitting up to give him a teasing grin. “Got dumped over his _terrible_ swing pushing skills."

“Shut up,” Oliver faux grumps over his shoulder, but his growing smile is a dead give away that he’s mere seconds away from chuckling himself. “I couldn't go near a swing for 6 months.”

Images of tiny baby Oliver refusing to go within 10 ft of a swing because of a broken heart sets Felicity off again, this time it takes her a few good minutes for her giggles to die down and wipes away the tears from the corners of her eyes. Still humming with mirth, she smacks an apologetic kiss to the curve of Oliver’s jaw and squeezes her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I bet my swing pushing skills have improved since then,” Oliver says smugly, looking over his shoulder and winks. Walking them over to the old wooden swing set, he turns to put her down on the slightly swinging plank of wood. “Wanna test them out?”

"Wait! whoa, whoa…" Felicity shrieks as her chest begin to get heavy as her breath shallows, clinging to Oliver like as her life depends on it. Uncertainty and fear fill Felicity to the brim.

She hasn’t been on a swing since she was a kid, let alone since the accident. Most of her adult life she has been stationary, motionless, stuck in one seat.

What if she doesn’t have the balance? What if she falls? What if she makes a fool of herself?  What if—

Her racing mind comes to a standstill as — in a move that’s hotter than it should — Felicity finds herself against Oliver’s chest, his strong arms wrapped around her. Soft eyes find hers, pleading her to focus on him and take a breath.

“Do you trust me?” he asks in her voice, low and calming. He bends down to kiss her temple. It lingers as she pushes herself into him more, finding herself relax as his familiar scent envelopes her.

How can he even think to ask that? One look, one smile, one kiss from Oliver sets Felicity’s — sometimes foggy — world into technicolour. He only has to be near for her pesky anxieties to be kept at bay.

So there’s no need for him to doubt her trust in him because he has it — truly and undeniably; always and forever.

She nods before the words can be even formed on her tongue.

“Yes.”

With a single nod of acceptance, Oliver gently sets her down on the seat, hovering until she's stable before he retreats.  But Felicity's mind apparently doesn't get the memo that she's safe— instinctively her hands reach out for Oliver, making him rush to kneel before her as his own hands stumble to touch her.

"Hey, hey,” Oliver coos, as one hand strokes her waist while the other cups her chin, tilting it so that once again, she can focus on him. With a kind smile and dedication in his eyes, Oliver vows in a whisper. “I won't let you fall. Ever"

 _God_ , she loves him so much that it _hurts._

There’s a familiar swoop in the pit of stomach as the constant flame in her veins flares. She wishes they weren’t in public, because the _things_ she would do to this man right now…

Instead, she looks up through thick lashes and wraps a hand around the nape of his neck and pulls him so that their foreheads are resting together. Felicity doesn’t dare to close her eyes though, she needs to covey as much love, gratitude and awe into them. Making sure he knows what he means to her as much as he shows the same to her every day  

“Fuck, you're _gorgeous_ ,” Oliver breathes huskily, eyes darkening with every word.

Their gaze turns heated for a second before Oliver breaks it by dropping his eyes down to slowly roan every inch of her body. Only stopping when he reaches the litter of scars on her stomach, stroking the longest one on her left waist reverently before pressing a delicate kiss there. He continues his appreciative journey until he reaches her toes and travels back up to her flushed face.

Then, his mouth is on hers. It's beautiful and sensual, and there's a definite promise of _later_ as he sucks on her bottom lip, his tongue invading her mouth. Felicity tries to get closer, sink into him, offer him whatever he can take but as quickly as he started it, Oliver ends the kiss.

Pulling back, smirking as Felicity huffs, Oliver rights her balance before leaning in to hover over her ear.

"Hold on tight," he whispers hotly as he stands and steps behind her, causing her to shiver before her clammy hands clasp around the cold metal of the chains of the swing.

His large hands are secure and steady on her back like they're protecting her by just resting there. So when she feels the soft pressure of him pushing her and the instant absence of them as the swing leaves its stationary position, Felicity doesn't panic.

She revels in it.

She doesn’t swing far, or high. Just a few feet, but she doesn’t care.

Because at this moment, she hasn’t felt so free, so limitless, and in reach of all possibilities before.

The man behind her has helped show her she's capable of anything, so when her back meets his hands again, and he pushes a little harder — a giggle escapes her lips before the words fly out of her mouth as freely as she does.

“You make me soar, Oliver Queen."


	4. Sneaky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Prompt: "Coffee Spill" by @sarusjones
> 
> For all who are carrying around a heavy heart at the thought of saying goodbye to Arrow.
> 
> The Hide Away 'verse will continue on!
> 
> Much love xx
> 
> (A/N: This is unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes or bad writing!)

* * *

 

**Somewhere in the future...**

“Baby, we got this.”

Felicity vaguely hears Oliver over her annoyingly fast paced heart roaring in her ears, as he gathers her up for a moment and settles her down gently on the vanity in his office ensuite — the door is locked to keep the outside chaos at bay, creating a safe bubble just for her. He softly parts her limp thighs apart so he can wiggle himself closer and hold her. The action causes one of her nude pumps to fall from her hanging foot to the floor with a _thud_.

The sound makes Felicity jumped a little, a soft _eep_ coming from her and one shaky hand flies out to grab Oliver’s shoulder tightly.

It seems like Felicity’s Survivor Mode decided to go walkabouts today — _oh, the irony!_ —  and she wants to summon it back and force it to take over like it should.

She needs it to ensure things keep moving and _fast_. For her career. For the future of technology helping to save lives.

Because in about three hours time, Felicity has to face a board of external investors and present to them on _why_ her work —  the prototype she has spent months on —  gets the extra funding it needs to go to the production stage.

However, of course, she had to go and do something so _incredibly stupid_ and put everything she’s work so hard for at jeopardy.

Why couldn’t she wheeled herself closer to the Applied Sciences’ kitchen bench and watched where she’d put her half filled ‘ _I hate Mondays’_ Garfield mug instead of rushing to get back to her desk?

The horrible image of the mug teetering on the edge of the countertop before gravity won and lukewarm coffee rained down on her careless self, and her precious tablet that sat on her lap will haunt her for the rest of the day.

It doesn’t help when she looks down once more at her unsalvageable coffee-stained white chiffon blouse and her favourite lavender pencil skirt to the fried tablet cradled in her free arm and back up to Oliver with wide eyes.

The only sound that escapes her thin magenta lips is a strangled whimper, her lungs are too restricted and her mind too hazy for anything else.

“I got you,” Oliver vows. He takes a moment brush soft knuckles along her jaw, tracing them soothingly over her collarbone and down her arm until his thumb slides over her racing pulse before gently removing the tablet out of her death grip and lightly tossing it on her chair behind them.

"C'mere hon," he whispers, twisting back around to her and wraps a strong arm around Felicity's waist and intentionally captures her blank gaze with his encouraging one, never looking away as he bends down to remove the other shoe. He shuffles back out of her legs and turns to set her heels down beside her wheels neatly — an endearing ritual he does each day before they settle in for the night.

The lack of his touch, his comfort — the lack of _him_ in her immediate vicinity throws her, even if it’s for a few seconds. It feels like she’s teetering on the edge, both physically and mentally.

She must have reached out for him or whimpered or even rocked forward in his direction unconsciously — eager to absorb the radiance of love and support he always gives  — because of all of the sudden Felicity's being engulfed by Oliver's big arms, so tightly she's afraid she'll crack a rib if she dare moves.

“Breathe. In and out. Feel my heart, Felicity.” he instructs, guiding her palm to where it beats calmly in his chest.

The warmth of the steady pulse of his heart in his chest and the familiar soothing voice slowly chips away at her anxiety until Felicity can finally inhale without it feeling like she's swallowing fire. It springs her into a babble — all her thoughts come to the surface at once.

It’s like once the numbing anxiety is gone, she can finally verbalise her panic.

Oh god, Oliver,” Felicity shakes out, clinging to the feel of his heartbeat like as if it is her own, grounding her to the present. “This is so important for me, the company and not to mention all those who’ll benefit from the prototype and I’ve just—”

Her words die off and are replaced with a sad groan as she tucks her chin to her chest, watery eyes catch a drying droplet of coffee on the red frame of her wheelchair as her gaze lowers.

“Don't do this to yourself.” he pleads, repeating the words she emotionally told him six months ago. 

Felicity watches her boyfriend shakes his head sadly. It's almost like seeing Felicity pulverised herself over something that was an unfortunate mishap pains him to his very core, and it makes Felicity's chest sink.

He _believes_ in her so much, even when she makes a fool of herself.

He shouldn’t.

"But…" she argues.

She could have prevented this.

Could have saved Oliver from coming down from his desk — 18 floors away — all because she had a silly spillage and had a slight freak out about killing her tech.

“No buts, this was an accident,” Oliver sweetly assures her, his voice is so sure that Felicity gives him a weak happy smile and a little excited nod when he states,  “Your presentation, your codes are backed up to the cloud. We can easily get you a new tablet in time.”

The mention of time sends her into rapid fire, totally wiping the hint of a smile off her face. Any excitement that was nearly brewing over the buzz of setting up new tech is now long gone.

Not when she realises…

“I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to go back home and change. I still need to proofread the slides and make last-minute edits— “ Felicity babbles heatly, her arms fly animately when she speaks, nearly hitting Oliver in the face.

"Hon, we'll—" Oliver tries to start, as his fingers begin to unbutton her soaked shirt — his knuckles tenderly skim her soft skin as they make their way down the placket of the shirt, over her white lacy bra and down to her waistline where he tugs at her shirt.

"Oh! And I still have to talk to David about tactics and test the prototype one last time and make sure the conference room is set up—  she continues, ignoring him while listing off the things she has to do on her fingers.

“Fel-ic-ity…” he drawls out, seeking her full attention.

But it’s no use. Once Felicity’s on a roll, there’s no stopping her. And she already knows this verbal freak out is a big one.

“Frack! Did I even booked the conference room?! I’m sure David would have double checked that. And David, he wanted to go over the —

Suddenly lips are on hers, quieting any torrent of words that are on the tip of her tongue. The kiss is gentle and soft and oh so _them_. She knows he's using the kiss as a distraction, giving her something else to focus on, a way for her to stop babbling until she runs out of air, but she doesn't care. Not when he's tracing the seams of her lips with his tongue and then licks the roof of her mouth when she opens for him.

All she can do is smile into the kiss.

"Sneaky," she whispers as she breaks the kiss and leans, so her forehead meets his, enjoying the feel of his soft lips still tingling on hers.

“But effective,” Oliver playfully retorts, a small smirk on his face as he leans back, taking her shirt with him as it falls from her torso.

For a moment, he watches her contently — his gaze is adoringly warm, comforting and loving with a hint of lust. His eyes flicker from hers to her cheeks, nose, lips then down to where her lacy bra lays and back up to her blue orbs. He gives her a tiny cheeky smile — and she gives a playful eye roll because _of course,_ the sight of her half-naked in his ensuite has gotten his attention —  before he brushes a curl behind her ear and leaning in to press a soft kiss to her jaw.

"I'm afraid your shirt didn't survive," he teases, throwing it over his shoulder. A small giggle leaves her at the sight and it deeps as he lightly tickles her at the waistline, where a small patch of coffee stains her lavender skirt. "But I think we can save your skirt."

Grabbing the white hand towel off the vanity, Oliver dampens it and starts to dab the stain until it's nearly gone before grabbing some stain removal wipes from under the sink and repeats the action.

The concentration on his brow and the way he delicately attends to her skirt is so damn _adorable_ that it makes Felicity’s heart sing with delight.

Who knew that Oliver Queen is wonderfully domestic?

Well, Felicity did. General laundry, he can do with ease. Cook, he’s literally a MasterChef. Clean, the house was spotless by the time Saturday night rolls around.

But this is new.

It causes her to let out a little confused laugh and arch an eyebrow in question when he looks up from where he’s dabbing.

"Thea," Oliver shrugs in the way of explanation. "she was catching up on some of her class lectures, and I happen to be in the room."

_That_ — picturing her clean freak boyfriend, pausing then stopping whatever he’s doing to come over to watch fashion lectures with great interest with his baby sister — is too much for Felicity to handle as her shoulders curve forward in laughter as she shakes with glee. It only dies down when Oliver mocks glares at her then pouts.

Small bouts of giggles still escape her when she smoothes Oliver’s hair back as he finishes cleaning. Once the stain is barely noticeable, Oliver throws the wipe out and taps Felicity’s waist in a silent question. It’s only when Felicity nods, Oliver walks over to the small closet in the corner, retrieving one of his dress shirts while muttering to himself about how they ‘ _need more of her stuff hanging up”._

Felicity shoots him a thankful grin as he helps her thread her arms into the shirt but pushes her hands away gently as she begins to button it up, causing the sides to hang loosely around her body.

“Oliver, I really need to get back. I have so much to do.” she insists, knowing she can’t stay in this sweet, peaceful bubble forever.

Duty calls.

"Stay," he coaxes, wrapping his warm arms around her waist and drawing soft circles along her sensitive lower back, causing her to shiver and fall into his embrace. His voice drops an octave as he breathes the words into her temple. "Stay with me, at least until we find you another top. While I love seeing you in my things, I'm not sure it's appropriate to be wearing your boyfriend shirts in front of investors."

“Fine,” Felicity humours him, her voice light and warm. 

They both know she could button up his dress shirt, tuck it into her pastel skirt and roll up the sleeves so it could look like it's intended to be ‘ _The Boyfriend’_ style as Thea claims it to be, insisting it’s the new hot fashion. No one would be none the wiser.

Especially middle-aged business people who clearly haven’t pick up the latest fashion magazine in the last decade with their dull suits and pantsuits.

She smiles as she wraps her arms around Oliver, snuggling in further when she feels him tighten his hold and sigh wistfully.

A beat passes where they just stay like that — her nose burrowed in the nook of his neck and his chin rests on the top of her head — enjoying the comfortable silence and the loving comfort they bring to each other.

It's Oliver who breaks the quiet as he leans back slightly, sliding his palms up her body until he's cupping her face and staring into her bright blue eyes before leaning in to hover over the side of her neck. His gaze is hooded, and desire paints his voice as it fills her ears in a rasped whisper that leaves goosebumps down her skin where his hot breath hits.

“After you _wowed_ everyone in that room and they give you that extra funding, I’m gonna take you home and cook you dinner— “

“Can it be your chicken cordon bleu? God, that is to die for.” she interrupts, humming at her favourite meal, momentary forgetting how the anticipation of what Oliver is telling her burns her veins in the best possible way.

That earns her a husky chuckle. “Yes, it can.”

"I'm gonna cook you my chicken cordon bleu, and then I'll draw you a relaxing warm bath, with all the salts and bubbles you like then," he pauses, taking a long moment to suck and nip at the skin where her shoulder meets her neck, causing her to moan and buck her breasts further into his chest. His tone is so low, husky and rasped when he continues; it sets Felicity on fire.   " _Then,_ I’m taking you to bed and make you come so hard that you’ll see shooting stars.

Biting her lip to hold back a needy groan while she shivers delightfully, Felicity nods enthusiastically into Oliver's neck before placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss over his pulse.

So yeah, _perhaps_ she has the time to stay in her boyfriend’s arms for a little bit.

At least, for the next ten minutes or so.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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